Just Relax
by hiei1317
Summary: This is a slash story, so if you are not comfortable with that please do not read. If you don't mind go on in and see the summary inside for a better idea of what is to come. R for mm sexual scenes. please r and r. new - Incest warning!


A/n: I hot this idea when wolfegurl006 told me about Philippe from in the Gastron Leroux book that she just found in her house. It's Raoul/Philippe slash and yes I do have mental problems for all those wondering… or at least if you consider the love of slash a mental problem which some do.

Based off of the book's characters (though I have never read it) and the movies events (since I have seen that!)! Takes place before the Don Juan scene, but after they learn that they must do the play.

Rating: R for male/malesexual moments.

Disclaimer: Don't own anyone in the story.

**Raoul POV**

I sit alone, reading a book in the center of the opera house, waiting for practice to be over. Then again, I'm not really reading, since all I can think about is how much trouble they are putting Christine through.

She has to sing, even if she doesn't want to she knows she has to.

She is wonderful, and her voice fits the part, as I'm sure her clever friend wanted it to, and yet she dislikes the very thought of going through with this.

I know that she doesn't want the Phantom harmed, but if we don't stop him there will be only pain, for her and for me. I can't put her through that.

There's a knock on the door.

"Monsieur?" it's Madame Giry's voice.

"Yes, Madame?" I call out, folding a page in the book to save my page and then closing it on my lap.

"You have a visitor," I can hear footsteps moving away, and I can tell that she has left.

"One moment," I call back, walking over to the mirror and fixing my hair. It's probably another friend of Andre or Firmin. Those two don't know what the word privacy means, no one around here does.

I walk over to the door, open it partially, see who it is, and stop dead in my tracks.

It's Philippe, my brother, Comte de Chagny.

"Philippe?" I open the door completely and he smiles.

"How long has it been?" I step back and let him enter my room.

"Too long," I walk over and he embraces me. He hasn't lost any of his youthful strength.

"Is everything alright?" I step back.

He nods, laughing; "Everything's fine."

"Then what brings you here?" I sit down on the bed and he sits down beside me.

"Has it become a crime for a brother to see his sibling?" he places a hand lovingly on my neck.

I shake my head 'no'.

We stay still for a moment and for a second I feel as if everything else has fallen away and it's just me and my brother.

He then looks around and asks, "So, how are things around here?"

I sigh, laying my head down on the pillow so I'm lying on my right side, "Not so great."

"The Phantom?" I look at him in shock. "Please, the story of the tragedy at the masquerade has reached my ears. So am I right, is it him?"

I sigh heavily, "Sort of. I mean it is him, in the end, but it's also Christine. The Phantom threw me this score that day, telling everyone their instructions for the production of _his_ show in _his_ opera house."

"His opera house?" my brother cuts in.

"His opera house," I laugh. "He wants Christine as the head role."

"That's great!" he tries.

"But she doesn't want to sing," I answer.

He frowns, "Not so great."

"Exactly, and then she goes and is having second thoughts of our engagement!" I roll over and bury my head in my pillow, like I did when I was younger. My brother seems to have brought out the kid in me.

Then I start to feel my shoulders being lightly massaged. I turn my head to the side to see Philippe.

"Brother, you take too much into your own hands," he brushes his lips on my cheek.

I relax and he moves his hands down, massaging my back. My back cracks and he quickly jumps, "I'm sorry."

"Actually that felt kind of nice," I look back at him and smile and he returns the smile with one of his own.

His smile is different from mine though. He used to say that I smiled just like our mother used to. Not like him, he smiles like our father, according to him.

I start to moan in delight and he kisses my neck.

"Philippe?" I'm confused now, he's never kissed me on my neck, always on the cheek or the forehead.

"Just relax," he turns me on my side, and then onto my back, gently but dominantly.

I can't relax. I try to sit up, but he pins me down, one leg on either side of me.

"Philippe, stop," I try to get away again, but he's too heavy and strong. He pins my arms at my side.

"Hush, brother, just relax," that's easy for him to say.

I feel one of his hands snake up and twist around the back of my neck. He pulls me in and kisses me hard on the lips. Shocked I try and move away, successfully breaking the kiss.

There are tears rolling down my cheeks, but he kisses them away.

"Philippe," I try again, my voice choked.

He rolls off of me and lies down beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist, still holding my in place, but with less force.

"What's wrong brother, I only mean to help you relax," he whispers into my ear, then nips my earlobe. Before I can stop it a moan escapes my lips.

He smiles at me and kisses me on the lips again, and this time I wrap a hand around his neck and kiss back.

I give in to his kiss, give in to the agony of reality and lose myself in my brother's comfort.

He rolls on top of me again, our lips still locked, then breaks the kiss from my lips, trailing them down my jaw.

I cry out his name in pure delight as he trails more kisses onto my neck and as he pulls my shirt off my shoulder, continuing them down my collarbone.

He pulls back and looks into my face, "See now, little brother, there is nothing to worry about."

He buries his head in my neck and whispers into my hair, "Just relax."

I listen to him this time, relaxing my muscles and mind for the first time in over three weeks. I love the feeling.

After relaxing I can feel his weight even more on top of me and I become aware that where our waists meet he has become hard.

I try to say something but he quickly smothers my mouth in a deep kiss, and I forget my problems.

When he pulls back he leans over to my ear; "Do you want to relax more?"

I can't answer him, I've lost my voice, but I nod my head 'yes'.

I feel his arms move down to the bottom of my shirt, un-tucking it. He then unbuttons it slowly, and pulls it off my arms tenderly. He removes his own and presses our bodies together. I feel the perfect mold of his body that he always had and that I always wanted, but could never achieve. It was just one more thing that he got from our father. I did grow up to be the more feminine one!

He then starts to move his hands to the sides of my pants, slowly pulling those off too. He removes his own and I look at him in surprise. There are only two thin layers now between him and I. I moan again, softly, as he removes both of them at the same time.

He then stops, leaning down next to me and whispers; "I don't want to hurt you, my brother."

I find my voice, "You aren't hurting me, you're relaxing me."

With my words he smiles.

The rest of the afternoon and most of the night is filled with pure ecstasy. It took a while for us to become one, but when we did it was fast and hard.  
I remember crying out, only to be hushed by a fast kiss to my lips, and then my face in his hair as he lay on top of me, pulling me to him.

The rest of the time was smooth and pure delight.

And now here we are, covered in mostly sweat, among other things. He holds me to his chest, and I smile, loving the feeling of his warmth beside me.

"Are you relaxed now, my brother," I hear Philippe whisper in the dark, and otherwise silent room.

As I lose myself to a peaceful sleep I can feel my head nod. The last thing I feel is a good night kiss.

0o0o0o0

a/n: just for the record I did not have a title for this until the very moment I am typing this last author's note. Also: please no flames, but they will be accepted. I don't mind really, but I prefer not to receive them, but if it really reflects your reactions then flame away. PLEASE REVIEW! thanks for reading!


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